


The Cartman Drabbles

by PBJellie



Category: South Park
Genre: Antisemitism, Drabble Collection, Eric Cartman Being An Asshole, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:28:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15460365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: A series of loosely related drabbles focusing on the life and times of Eric Cartman.





	The Cartman Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first in a series of drabbles focused on Eric Cartman. I'm sure y'all all know that Eric Cartman isn't always a great person, and I'm portraying him as a fucked up kid who grows into a fucked up adult. 
> 
> TW: Dick Pics is about Eric taking secret photographs of his roommate.

Butters had expected some shenanigans when he agreed to be roommates with Eric. A few remnants of a crazy childhood. 

Maybe cling wrap on the toilet, so when he went to go to the bathroom it made a big mess. Maybe he'd take the cherries out of chocolate cherries and replace it with mayonnaise. Maybe, if it we're a bad prank, he'd get kicked in the nuts.

He had obviously miscalculated. 

“Eric,” he called out, touching the binder with his fingertips. “Eric, what is this?”

“That's my personal property, you fucking thief,” Eric said, puffing his chest up. “I didn't sign up to be roommates with a fucking theif. What are you, a Jew? Tell me, Butters? Are you a Jew?” 

“No,” Butters stammered, taken aback by the question.

“Then we're good. If you're not a Jew, then we're all done here. Good talk,” he nodded, taking the binder from the kitchen island.

“Wait, wait just a cotton picking minute,” Butters reached for the binder, grabbing the back corner. “Why do you have this?” 

“Well, it's my binder, Butters,” Eric sneered. “I have it 'cause it's mine. People can own their own things. We can still have possessions, despite what the radical leftists want.” 

“This ain't about them,” Butters sighed. “Why do you have a bunch of naughty pictures of me?” 

“I'm an artist,” and he made the word rhyme with feast, which just sounded strange to Butters. “I make art. It's what I do to unwind.” 

“They are from the bathroom.” 

“Very astute observation,” Eric let the binder fall back onto the island, where it fell open. Immediately in Butters eyes sight was one of the offending photos. Butters, fast asleep on their couch, with his pants around his ankles. He was hard, but he didn't know if it was already like that, or if Eric did that. 

It was obvious from the chubby hand around his dick, that Eric was the one who took the picture. 

“Did you jack me off?” Butters asked, flabbergasted as he looked at the photo harder. A bead of precum slid down the shaft. “I was sleepin’. You can't just be touching people weiners while they sleep, Eric.” 

“We do strange things for our passions.” 

“I didn't tell you it was alright to touch me,” Butters blushed, flipping through the binder. The next picture was Butters, peeing in their bathroom, dick in his hand. It looked like it'd been shot from the back of the commode. Was their house bugged?

“You didn’t tell me I couldn’t,” Eric shrugged, grabbing the binder from Butters’ hands. “I’ve got an early morning class, I’ll be back late.” 

“Uh, okay, I mean-” and the door was slammed shut before it registered that Eric didn’t have any classes before noon.


End file.
